The Curious Republic of Gondour

by Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens)
Originally published in 1870/1871

Public Domain

As soon as I had learned to speak the language a
little, I became greatly interested in the people and the system of government.

I found that the nation had at first tried
universal suffrage pure and simple, but had thrown that form aside because the
result was not satisfactory. It had seemed to deliver all power into the hands
of the ignorant and non-tax-paying classes; and of a necessity the responsible
offices were filled from these classes also.

A remedy was sought. The people believed they
had found it; not in the destruction of universal suffrage, but in the
enlargement of it. It was an odd idea, and ingenious. You must understand, the
constitution gave every man a vote; therefore that vote was a vested right, and
could not be taken away. But the constitution did not say that certain
individuals might not be given two votes, or ten! So an amendatory clause was
inserted in a quiet way; a clause which authorised the enlargement of the
suffrage in certain cases to be specified by statute. To offer to
"limit" the suffrage might have made instant trouble; the offer to
"enlarge" it had a pleasant aspect. But of course the newspapers soon
began to suspect; and then out they came! It was found, however, that for
once—and for the first time in the history of the republic—property, character,
and intellect were able to wield a political influence; for once, money,
virtue, and intelligence took a vital and a united interest in a political
question; for once these powers went to the "primaries" in strong
force; for once the best men in the nation were put forward as candidates for
that parliament whose business it should be to enlarge the suffrage. The
weightiest half of the press quickly joined forces with the new movement, and
left the other half to rail about the proposed "destruction of the
liberties" of the bottom layer of society, the hitherto governing class of
the community.

The victory was complete. The new law was framed
and passed. Under it every citizen, howsoever poor or ignorant, possessed one
vote, so universal suffrage still reigned; but if a man possessed a good
common-school education and no money, he had two votes; a high-school education
gave him four; if he had property like wise, to the value of three thousand 'sacos,'
he wielded one more vote; for every fifty thousand 'sacos' a man added to his
property, he was entitled to another vote; a university education entitled a
man to nine votes, even though he owned no property. Therefore, learning being
more prevalent and more easily acquired than riches, educated men became a
wholesome check upon wealthy men, since they could outvote them. Learning goes
usually with uprightness, broad views, and humanity; so the learned voters,
possessing the balance of power, became the vigilant and efficient protectors
of the great lower rank of society.

And now a curious thing developed itself—a sort
of emulation, whose object was voting power! Whereas formerly a man was honored
only according to the amount of money he possessed, his grandeur was measured
now by the number of votes he wielded. A man with only one vote was
conspicuously respectful to his neighbor who possessed three. And if he was a
man above the common-place, he was as conspicuously energetic in his
determination to acquire three for himself. This spirit of emulation invaded
all ranks. Votes based upon capital were commonly called "mortal"
votes, because they could be lost; those based upon learning were called
"immortal," because they were permanent, and because of their
customarily imperishable character they were naturally more valued than the
other sort. I say "customarily" for the reason that these votes were
not absolutely imperishable, since insanity could suspend them.

Under this system, gambling and speculation
almost ceased in the republic. A man honoured as the possessor of great voting
power could not afford to risk the loss of it upon a doubtful chance.

It was curious to observe the manners and
customs which the enlargement plan produced. Walking the street with a friend
one day he delivered a careless bow to a passer-by, and then remarked that that
person possessed only one vote and would probably never earn another; he was
more respectful to the next acquaintance he met; he explained that this salute
was a four-vote bow. I tried to "average" the importance of the
people he accosted after that, by the-nature of his bows, but my success was
only partial, because of the somewhat greater homage paid to the immortals than
to the mortals. My friend explained. He said there was no law to regulate this
thing, except that most powerful of all laws, custom. Custom had created these
varying bows, and in time they had become easy and natural. At this moment he
delivered himself of a very profound salute, and then said, "Now there's a
man who began life as a shoemaker's apprentice, and without education; now he
swings twenty-two mortal votes and two immortal ones; he expects to pass a
high-school examination this year and climb a couple of votes higher among the immortals;
mighty valuable citizen."

By and by my friend met a venerable personage,
and not only made him a most elaborate bow, but also took off his hat. I took
off mine, too, with a mysterious awe. I was beginning to be infected.

"What grandee is that?"

"That is our most illustrious astronomer.
He hasn't any money, but is fearfully learned. Nine immortals is his political
weight! He would swing a hundred and fifty votes if our system were
perfect."

"Is there any altitude of mere moneyed
grandeur that you take off your hat to?"

"No. Nine immortal votes is the only power
we uncover for that is, in civil life. Very great officials receive that mark
of homage, of course."

It was common to hear people admiringly mention
men who had begun life on the lower levels and in time achieved great
voting-power. It was also common to hear youths planning a future of ever so
many votes for themselves. I heard shrewd mammas speak of certain young men as
good "catches" because they possessed such-and-such a number of
votes. I knew of more than one case where an heiress was married to a youngster
who had but one vote; the argument being that he was gifted with such excellent
parts that in time he would acquire a good voting strength, and perhaps in the
long run be able to outvote his wife, if he had luck.

Competitive examinations were the rule and in
all official grades. I remarked that the questions asked the candidates were
wild, intricate, and often required a sort of knowledge not needed in the
office sought.

"Can a fool or an ignoramus answer
them?" asked the person I was talking with.

"Certainly not."

"Well, you will not find any fools or
ignoramuses among our officials."

I felt rather cornered, but made shift to say:

"But these questions cover a good deal more
ground than is necessary."

"No matter; if candidates can answer these
it is tolerably fair evidence that they can answer nearly any other question
you choose to ask them."

There were some things in Gondour which one
could not shut his eyes to. One was, that ignorance and incompetence had no
place in the government. Brains and property managed the state. A candidate for
office must have marked ability, education, and high character, or he stood no
sort of chance of election. If a hod-carrier possessed these, he could succeed;
but the mere fact that he was a hod-carrier could not elect him, as in previous
times.

It was now a very great honour to be in the
parliament or in office; under the old system such distinction had only brought
suspicion upon a man and made him a helpless mark for newspaper contempt and
scurrility. Officials did not need to steal now, their salaries being vast in
comparison with the pittances paid in the days when parliaments were created by
hod-carriers, who viewed official salaries from a hod-carrying point of view
and compelled that view to be respected by their obsequious servants. Justice
was wisely and rigidly administered; for a judge, after once reaching his place
through the specified line of promotions, was a permanency during good behaviour.
He was not obliged to modify his judgments according to the effect they might
have upon the temper of a reigning political party.

The country was mainly governed by a ministry
which went out with the administration that created it. This was also the case
with the chiefs of the great departments. Minor officials ascended to their
several positions through well-earned promotions, and not by a jump from
gin-mills or the needy families and friends of members of parliament. Good
behaviour measured their terms of office.

The head of the governments the Grand Caliph,
was elected for a term of twenty years. I questioned the wisdom of this. I was
answered that he could do no harm, since the ministry and the parliament
governed the land, and he was liable to impeachment for misconduct. This great
office had twice been ably filled by women, women as aptly fitted for it as
some of the sceptred queens of history. Members of the cabinet, under many
administrations, had been women.

I found that the pardoning power was lodged in a
court of pardons, consisting of several great judges. Under the old regime,
this important power was vested in a single official, and he usually took care
to have a general jail delivery in time for the next election.

I inquired about public schools. There were
plenty of them, and of free colleges too. I inquired about compulsory
education. This was received with a smile, and the remark:

"When a man's child is able to make himself
powerful and honoured according to the amount of education he acquires, don't
you suppose that that parent will apply the compulsion himself? Our free
schools and free colleges require no law to fill them."

There was a loving pride of country about this
person's way of speaking which annoyed me. I had long been unused to the sound
of it in my own. The Gondour national airs were forever dinning in my ears;
therefore I was glad to leave that country and come back to my dear native
land, where one never hears that sort of music.

Exerpted from the book The Curious Republic of Gondour, and Other Whimsical Sketches by Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens).